KINA
I didn't eat the toast he made. I wanted to... god, I really wanted to... but I couldn't look at him. Not after acting like that last night. Not after being a complete emotional wreck and dragging him down with me. I felt pathetic, and I knew he didn't see me that way, but still. I couldn't stomach breakfast and face him in the same breath.
So I left early, with my stomach growling and my chest heavier than it had any right to be. The guilt was a slow leak in my bloodstream. I kept replaying everything, the way I shoved him away, the way he still pulled me into his warmth, and how I couldn't even say thank you before curling up like a coward on the couch.
What was he thinking now?
Did he hate me?
No, not Kieran. But maybe he was disappointed. Maybe he thought I was just like everyone else who expected something from him and then flinched at the real deal.
I sighed and tapped my access card at the office door, trying to shove the spiral down. But of course, as soon as I stepped in...
"Morning, Kina!"
Alex's voice cut through the fog of my thoughts like a cheerful little machete. I looked up to find him smiling like always, eyes crinkling as he jogged a little to catch up with me.
"Morning," I mumbled, forcing a half-smile.
He walked beside me, backpack slung over one shoulder, looking like a Pinterest board for low-budget startup success stories.
"How was your night?" he asked, nudging my arm slightly with his.
"Uh… fine," I said. "You?"
"Oh, you know," he laughed. "Poverty, ramen, Netflix. Same old."
I chuckled weakly, grateful for the small talk, even if my heart was still stuck back in that tiny apartment with the man I was now avoiding like a ghost.
We reached the office and settled into our usual rhythm, coffee mugs filled, screens flickering to life, papers scattered like confetti from a party I wasn't mentally attending.
Still, I couldn't focus. I kept picturing Kieran , probably pacing, probably annoyed, maybe regretting staying, maybe…
My phone buzzed.
I jumped like I'd just been caught with a crush in high school. I swiped it open fast, like an addict.
Only it wasn't him.
It was Alex.
> "You okay? You seemed kinda down this morning."
I blinked. Then typed back:
> "I'm fine. You're imagining it."
Another buzz:
> "Nah. I saw your face. I've been worried. You sure you're alright?"
I bit my lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The effort was sweet. Unexpected, too. So I gave him something small in return.
> "Really, I'm okay. Just tired, that's all."
He replied fast, like he was waiting:
> "Well, there's this new cafe everyone's been raving about. Thought maybe we could check it out after work? I could use a break, and maybe you could too."
I hesitated.
Another message came:
> "It's one of those aesthetic places with overpriced coffee and fake plants. Might as well go before I get too broke to afford water."
I snorted.
> "Aren't you already broke?"
> "Please stop attacking my financial trauma 😔"
I sighed. Then typed back:
> "Fine. But only if I pay."
> "Kina, you wound my pride."
> "Deal with it."
He didn't argue after that.
The café looked like it belonged in a magazine for people who own yachts and cry on velvet couches. The menu? Ridiculous. Like, I was almost sure they'd added an extra zero by mistake.
"What the hell is a lavender moon croissant and why is it fifteen dollars?" I whispered, peering at the laminated crime scene in front of me.
Alex, on the other hand, didn't even flinch. He was scanning it like this was a regular Tuesday.
I glanced at him, then at the menu again, and made the executive decision.
"I'm paying," I said.
"No, no, no way. I dragged you here."
"I said I'm paying."
"Kina—"
"Let me have this, okay?" I gave him a look.
He finally backed down with a groan. "Fine. But I'm paying next time."
"You won't be able to afford 'next time,'" I teased.
We sat by the window, pastries arriving on plates that were fancier than any dinner I'd ever cooked. The coffee was served with art I was afraid to ruin, and everything smelled too sweet to be real.
I took a bite. It was heavenly. I hated it.
"This is criminal," I muttered.
Alex grinned. "Told you."
We talked about nothing and everything. Work gossip. Office chairs that squeaked too much. That weird guy from HR who always wore mismatched socks.
And then, mid-laugh, he asked, "So… are you single?"
I choked on my coffee. "That's… a secret."
"Damn. Alright, next question, do you live alone?"
I tensed for a split second. "Y-yeah."
"Why do you sound like you're lying?"
"I'm not."
"You totally are."
"I'm just awkward!"
We both laughed again. And for a moment... just a moment... I felt… light.
I never did this. Not with coworkers. Not with anyone, really.
And yet here I was, smiling over overpriced pastries with a boy who didn't feel like home… but didn't feel like war either.
Still, somewhere behind all the jokes and sugar, my thoughts kept drifting back to him.
To Kieran.
To the quiet man who made me breakfast, even when I didn't deserve it.
I wasn't sure what to do. My mind did a few loops of how it'd be going back home but every thought led to me holding by breathe without realizing it.
But still I'd have to go back right?
....
When I opened the door, the apartment smelled faintly like coffee and something sharp, cleaning alcohol maybe. The lights were off in the living room, but the kitchen light spilled a narrow strip onto the floor.
I stepped inside quietly, locking the door behind me. I didn't even know what I was expecting, maybe an empty apartment, maybe a note, maybe nothing.
What I wasn't prepared for was to see him.
Kieran stepped out of the kitchen at the same time I entered. We both stopped, caught in each other's path like deer in headlights. He had a glass of water in one hand, the sleeves of his hoodie shoved halfway up his forearms. His hair was damp, like he'd just taken a shower.
Our eyes met, and the silence punched me right in the chest.
My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag. I should've said something. Anything. But my throat locked up, and the weight of everything I'd said last night came crashing down on me again like a stupid avalanche. God, I wanted to disappear.
"I—" I started, barely above a whisper.
But Kieran moved first.
He walked toward me, slow, deliberate, and then bowed.
Bowed.
What the hell?
"I apologize," he said, voice calm and unreadable. "For last night."
My mouth opened, but no words came out. I couldn't even process the sight of Kieran, cold, terrifying, shadow-in-the-corner Kieran, bowing like some soldier accepting defeat.
And then, just as quickly, he straightened up again... tall, broad, expression unreadable. That wall was back up. That mask I thought I'd cracked.
He didn't look at me again as he set the glass down on the counter, crossed the room in a few long strides, and grabbed his hoodie from the back of the couch. A black cap. A fresh face mask.
He was dressed and ready to vanish.
My heart dropped. "Wait—where are you going?"
He paused, hand gripping the edge of the door. "Out."
That was all he said.
And then he slipped out the door before I could stop him, leaving the apartment, leaving me, in suffocating silence again.